I finally looked up at him, finding him standing just close enough to be within my personal space but not close enough to be obviously inappropriate if someone walked in. His blue eyes held that same determination I’d seen in my office, the same refusal to back down that had led to us fucking on my desk.
“What do you want, Archer?”
“I want you to stop pretending that what happened between us didn’t matter,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I want you to admit that you’ve been thinking about it just as much as I have. That youenjoyedit.”
Of course he was right, and that made everything infinitely worse. I had been thinking about it. Constantly. The memory of his body beneath mine, the sounds he’d made, the way he’d responded to every touch… it was all I could think about during my classes, during fencing practice, and especially during the long sleepless hours when I should have been grading papers.
“It doesn’t matter what I enjoyed,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “What matters is that it can’t happen again.”
“Why?” He stepped closer, heat rolling off him in waves “Because of some arbitrary rules about professors and students? Because you’re worried about what people might think?”
“Because I could destroy your life,” I snapped, louder than I intended. I glanced toward the door, making sure it was still closed. “And you could destroy mine. Do you have any idea what would happen if your family found out? If the administration discovered what we’ve done?”
“I don’t care about my family’s opinion,” he said, but there was something in his eyes that suggested it wasn’t entirely true. “And the administration doesn’t need to know anything.”
“You’re being naive.” I turned away from him, putting the podium between us like a barrier. “Secrets have a way of coming out, Archer. And when they do, it won’t just be your reputationon the line. I could lose everything I’ve built here. How is that fair to me?”
There was a long pause. “You’re right,” he said at last. I heard him take a step back, his heat fading. “I’m asking you to risk a lot just so I can… pull one over on my parents.”
I turned to face him, seeing the realization in his eyes.
“I’m being really immature, aren’t I?” he said softly, a tone of melancholy filling his voice.
“Archer…” I sighed, shaking my head.
“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”
“Maybe a little,” I admitted, and watched his shoulders slump. The melancholy in his voice made my stomach clench. “But that doesn’t make what you’re feeling any less valid.”
He looked up at me then, surprise flickering across his features.
“Look, Archer,” I said, stepping out from behind the podium despite every instinct telling me to maintain distance. “I understand wanting to rebel against family expectations. Trust me, I’ve had centuries to perfect the art of disappointing people who think they know what’s best for me.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Centuries of practice, huh?”
“More than you can imagine.” I found myself moving closer to him, drawn by that vulnerable expression he was trying to hide. “But using me as your method of rebellion... it puts us both at risk for something that might not even be what you really want.”
“What if it is what I want?” he asked quietly. “What if it’s not just about my parents?”
The question hung between us, loaded with implications I wasn’t sure either of us was ready to face. Because the truth was, I’d been asking myself the same thing. Was this just about theincredible sexual energy he provided, or was there something deeper happening here?
“Archer...” I started, then stopped. What could I possibly say? That I thought about him constantly? That feeding from him had been unlike anything I’d experienced in three centuries? That the idea of never touching him again made something in my chest ache in a way I’d forgotten was possible?
“I should go,” he said when I didn’t continue, shouldering his bag. “You’re right about the risks. I’m sorry for being so selfish.”
He was halfway to the door before I found my voice again.
“Wait.”
He stopped, his hand on the door handle, but didn’t turn around.
“Your next private history lesson,” I said, my voice rough. “Come early.”
He turned around slowly, his blue eyes wide with surprise and something that looked like hope. “How early?”
“Twenty minutes before our scheduled time.” I felt my resolve cracking even as I spoke, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “And Archer? This isn’t a yes. I’m not making you any promises.”
“Of course.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but I could hear the excitement thrumming beneath it. “And don’t worry, I won’t say anything to anyone. I promise.”
